Tutoring Dave Karofsky
by Jane Krahe
Summary: Sequel to Of Snow and Coffee and Hermes Scarves. Fate brings Dave and Kurt closer. Please heed the rating, this is hard M


**Title: **Tutoring Dave Karofsky**  
>Author: <strong>janekrahe**  
>Pairing(s): <strong>Kurtofsky**  
>Rating:<strong> NC-17**  
>Word Count: <strong>3814**  
>Warnings: <strong>none**  
>Spoilers: <strong>up till NBK**  
>Summary: <strong>Sequel to my fic. Kurt doesn't know who he is or what he wants.

**A/N: **So, the events of the first fic got jossed all to hell, so this is AU after the events of Never Been Kissed. Un'beta'd, and finished in the wee hours of the morning. Thanks to mondler_4_ever. This fic was going to go in a completely different direction until she asked me, "Will there be sex in it?" and I was like, "You know what? THERE SHOULD BE."

Tutoring Dave Karofsky

Kurt decided then and there that life had a cruel sense of humor. He didn't believe in God, but something out there _had_ to be having a good laugh at his expense. There was just no way in which this was fair. There was no justice in a world where he could be forced to tutor the most confusing person on the face of the planet.

Besides Brittany, of course.

"You want me to _what_?" Kurt crossed his arms and glared at Principal Figgins.

"I want you to tutor David Karofsky in English," he said, leaning forward across his desk, his voice earnest. "His grades are flagging and if he doesn't get them up, he will no longer be eligible to play sports."

"So?" Kurt asked a little harshly. "Sam's the best football player we have, not Karofsky."

"I'm not talking about football, I'm talking about hockey. Mr. Karofsky is our star hockey player; without him our team is useless."

"_Hockey_ is useless," Kurt sniffed. "No one cares about scoring; it's all about beating up the other team."

"Be that as it may, we need him on the team." Figgins folded his hands in front of him and gave Kurt a smile, which the boy did not return. "Mr. Hummel, you have some of the most consistently high test scores in the school; you would be a valuable peer tutor."

"And if I say 'no'?"

Figgins leaned forward again. "Mr. Hummel, I have looked the other way many times concerning your multiple violations of the school dress code, but if you do not tutor Mr. Karofsky, I will be forced to acquiesce to certain complaints from students and faculty alike and enforce the rules." Kurt gasped. "That means no more 'skinny' jeans, no more outrageous headwear, and certainly no more corsets!"

"But I haven't worn a corset since…" Kurt trailed off. _Since Karofsky asked me not to_. Kurt sighed. "Fine," he muttered. "Tell Karofsky to meet me in the choir room after school." Kurt stood and hefted his bag onto his shoulder.

"You won't regret this Mr. Hummel!" Figgins called as Kurt left the room.

_Oh, yes I will_, Kurt thought grimly.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Kurt sat in the choir room, listening to the feet pounding through the halls outside. He was texting Blaine.

**Kurt: ** _They're making me tutor Karofsky._

**Blaine:** _that guy who kissed you?_

**Kurt: **_Yes. I'm waiting for him now_.

**Kurt:** _My life sucks._

**Blaine:**_ no it doesn't. maybe this is a good chance to reason with him_

**Blaine: **_maybe he'll listen now_

Kurt hesitated. He hadn't told Blaine about what had happened several weeks before, when he'd been stuck in the snow and Karofsky had picked him up. He hadn't yet told him about the agreement they'd come to, the shaky truce that had built up between them. He wasn't sure why. It just seemed… fragile, and it felt like if he told anyone, it would shatter like thin glass.

Karofsky had been true to his word; he'd left Kurt alone. In fact, he'd gone out of his way to avoid Kurt. They'd spent the last three or so weeks each pretending the other didn't exist. And if a blue plaid scarf went missing out of Kurt's gym locker, well, he wasn't going to say anything about it.

Kurt heard heavy, distinctive footsteps outside the door. He dashed off a quick text to Blaine – _He's here. I'll call later_ – and straightened up, trying to look imperious and scholarly.

Karofsky came into the room with a loud bang, the door bouncing off the wall. He stomped over to Kurt and sat down next to him, his eyes down, glowering at the carpet.

Kurt sat frozen for a moment, wondering what the hell was up with the other boy. Eventually he cleared his throat, and Karofsky's dark eyes darted to him.

"So," Kurt began nervously, fidgeting a little in his seat, "I'm supposed to tutor you in English, but they didn't tell me what exactly you were having a problem with, so –"

"It's not the work I'm having a problem with," Karofsky snapped.

"Oh." Kurt sat silently for awhile. "Then… what _are_ you having a problem with?"

Karofsky turned his head to glare and probably yell a little at Kurt, but when his eyes landed on him, his expression softened. "It's Azimio," he said, his voice low. "He says that I'm… different. And he won't leave me alone about it. He just keeps _pushing_, trying to figure out what's up with me, and I wish I could tell him but…" he trailed off.

"But?" Kurt prompted.

Karofsky sighed. "But _you're _what's up with me."

"Oh," Kurt said again, more softly this time.

"I mean," Karofsky continued, "not just you, but everything. I mean, you're in there, definitely, but there's more to it, and I just –" he broke off, sighing loudly and running a hand through his hair. "I fucking hate thinking."

Kurt felt himself smile a little. "Yes, I remember." Clearing his throat, Kurt continued, "Um, Karofsky, I –"

"Dave," Karofsky interrupted.

"What?"

"My name is Dave. We're not friends, but we're not enemies anymore, I think you can call me by my first name."

"Right. Sorry. _Dave_. It's just… well, why don't you just tell them?" Dave glanced sharply at him. "Not about… whatever it is about me… just about… you know, _you_." Grilled Cheesus, Kurt had never felt quite so inarticulate. He sighed. "What I mean is –"

"Why don't I just come out?"

"Well – yeah."

Dave shook his head. "I can't. And it's not about Azimio or sports, or anything dumb like that. It's my family. God, I can just hear it now. My mom would cry and ask, 'Why do you do these things to us, David?' And my stepdad would yell, 'See what I fucking told you? He's just like his fucking father. Always trying to make things hard on you, Mary. He just needs discipline.' And out will come the military school brochures, and there'd be phone calls to Father Shannon, and 'What will the neighbors say?' Ugh, no thank you."

_Whoa_. Kurt sat in stunned silence.

Dave turned to him and asked, "So… what was it like when you came out to your dad?"

"Um…" Kurt didn't know what to say. He didn't want to make Dave feel worse, but he didn't want to lie, either. "He… already kind of knew," Kurt said finally. "And even though he doesn't quite understand it, he accepts me for who I am."

"Hmph. Must be nice."

"It is."

Kurt drummed his fingers on the table. "Okay, look," he said after a moment. "My participation in this little venture was not voluntary; Figgins threatened me with eternal damnation in the land of bland unless I helped you. I can't stop tutoring you until you get better grades."

Dave sighed. "Life fucking sucks."

"Yes it does," Kurt agreed.

"I'm not stupid," Dave said. "I can, I don't know, pay more attention in English. So you don't have to tutor me or whatever."

"I'm not sure that will work. Figgins was pretty damned determined. I don't think he'll let us out of this until your grades actually _do_ improve."

"Then what are we supposed to do?" Dave asked, angry. "I don't want to spend every fucking afternoon here with you."

_Wow. Ouch._ Kurt was surprised at how bad that stung. "Fuck you, too, Karofsky," Kurt snapped back, annoyed that this closet-case could still hurt his feelings.

"God, I wish," Dave muttered, almost to himself. "It's been ages."

Kurt froze, going cold at his words. He stood stiffly.

Dave's face changed to horror the moment he realized what he'd said. "Oh God, no, I didn't mean–"

"I'm just gonna… go. Away." Kurt picked up his pack and turned on his heel and left, keeping his eyes straight ahead of him.

"Kurt, wait!"

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Kurt sat in his room later, trying to figure out what the hell his life had become.

He knew Karofsky – _Dave_ – was attracted him. But knowing it and hearing it were two different things, and hearing Dave so casually talk about… about…

_About sex. About having sex… with me. _ Kurt just couldn't wrap his head around it. The mere thought of having sex with Dave made his insides twist up and his pulse flutter, but the worst part was that he didn't recognize those sensations as disgust or fear. He wasn't sure _what_ the hell they were, just that they were confusing and he didn't like it a bit.

It was strange, thinking of himself as a sexual being. Something about being the only open kid at his school had given him a complex; he was the asexual gay friend, sassy and offensive, and completely sexless. He'd never thought of himself as having any sort of sexual presence before, let alone being attractive in any sense of the word.

Kurt stood and walked over to his three full-length mirrors. He studied his reflection.

Clothes hung well on him, but that was because he was thin, with feminine hips.

He had nice skin, he supposed, but only because he took such good care of it.

His eyes weren't bad, but they were his mom's eyes, and everything about her had been beautiful.

Kurt hated his mouth. He felt like a frog. And his nose was oddly shaped. He had nice hair, but that was more product then genes. He was short, and had big feet.

He was ordinary.

"Hey, Kurt," Finn's voice came down the stairs, followed closely by the boy himself. "Your dad wants to know where the low-sodium baked potatoes chips are. We're watching the game, and he says it's not right without chips."

Still staring at his reflection, Kurt asked, "Am I attractive?"

Finn tilted his head. "Um… what?"

Kurt turned. "Am I attractive?" he repeated. "Am I good-looking? Am I… sexy?"

Finn turned bright red, and if Kurt's mind wasn't a thousand miles away, he'd have taken great pleasure in that. "Um, dude, I thought we'd been through this –"

Kurt shook his head. "No, no, I'm not asking if _you_ find me attractive; I mean from an objective point of view."

"Um… hold on." Finn whipped his cell phone out and typed furiously on the keypad for a second.

"What are you doing?" Kurt asked.

"Getting an expert opinion," Finn replied. A moment later, his phone started singing "Wilkommen". He flipped it open and read, then said with a frown, "Um… so Rachel says you're not her type, but you have a… _nice ass_, and that you're a… twink?" He looked up at Kurt, who was blushing furiously red. "What's a twink?"

Kurt could do nothing but shake his head.

Finn looked confused for a moment, then said, "Kay, I'm just gonna… go back upstairs now." He gave a little nod then turned to leave.

"Chips are on top of the fridge!" Kurt squeaked at his retreating back.

"Thanks!"

Kurt sighed and sat down. A twink, huh? Well, at least he knew there were a lot of guys into that sort of thing. Like that creepy guy at the candy shop in the mall who kept trying to give Kurt free suckers. Kurt shuddered. It was always _red_ suckers, too.

Kurt's phone rang. He picked it up without even looking at it. "Hello?" he said dully.

"Don't hang up." Kurt stood up straight at the sound of Dave Karofsky's voice.

"What do you want?" Kurt hissed. "And how did you get my number?"

"From Santana. And I wanted to say sorry for earlier."

Kurt sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And what did you tell Santana when you asked for my number?" He slowly sat back down on his bed.

"That you were my English tutor. Dude, I'm not stupid."

"Yes, you've said that." Kurt tried not to smile; _I'm not smiling, dammit._

"Yeah, well like I said. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I mean… well yeah, I kinda did, but not-" Dave sighed, and Kurt decided to take pity on him.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it." Kurt was shaking a little, but had no idea why. "I just… want to forget about it, okay?"

There was a long silence on the other line. Then Dave's voice came through, sullen and young. "You're that grossed out by me, aren't you?" It was barely a question.

Kurt answered before his mind had caught up. "No. Surprisingly, I'm not. I'm just… you confuse me. I don't know what you are. First you were a bully, but then surprise! You were gay." Kurt was speaking very fast, thoughts spilling out the moment he linked them together. "And that should have made you an ally, but it didn't. And I lied when I said you weren't my type, but then not really, because I don't usually follow a guy around like a puppy dog until he's at least been nice to me, so you're not quite my type, but you're just so damned _confusing. _You confuse me, David, and I fucking _hate_ being confused, I like knowing exactly who I am and what I like and where I stand. And everyone lets me know where I stand, without fail, my friends, my classmates, my family, everyone. Except you. Because you don't know what I am to you yet, so you can't show me where I stand. And it's fucking confusing and I hate it."

Kurt was panting a little, his hands were shaking, and he felt tears prickling in his eyes, and he had no idea _why._ He knew that everything he'd just said was true, though he hadn't known it until that moment, and he knew that scared him. Fuck, he _hated_ feeling so out of control.

"I know what you are to me." Dave's voice was soft. "I know. I just… don't want you to know that yet."

"Why not?" Kurt demanded. "Just… tell me what you want from me!"

"Don't be stupid, Kurt." Dave's voice was cold now. "You know exactly what I _want_ from you."

A wave of… something washed over Kurt. Not dread, exactly. It sent ripples of goose bumps down his spine, and made him shiver.

"But I probably shouldn't get what I want," Dave continued. "So it's not really about what I want – it's about what I need. And I'm not sure I know that yet. I know who you are to me – and who I want you to be. But why does that matter? You know who you are, don't you?"

The question stopped Kurt's brain for a moment. _You know who you are, don't you?_

Did he?.

Kurt opened his mouth to speak – though he had no idea what he would say – but he realized that the line was dead. Dave had hung up.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Kurt wasn't quite sure what he was doing in the choir room after school. Last night he'd told himself that he would cut off any contact with David Karofsky; the boy was too confusing, too… everything. But there he was, waiting for him to show. And getting a little offended that he was late. Kurt's phone started buzzing in his pocket. He didn't _even_ glance at the screen, just answered it with, "If you're not here in the next two minutes, I'm leaving!"

"Um… Kurt?"

_Shit_. It was Blaine. "Oh god, sorry," Kurt said, wincing. "I thought you were –"

"Karofsky," Blaine finished. "Are you sitting there waiting for him?"

"Yeah, and he's late."

"So go home."

Kurt sighed. "I can't, Figgins said –"

"Kurt, this guy is dangerous," Blaine insisted with a heated tone. "You shouldn't even be in the same room with him."

"He's not _dangerous_, he's –"

"Not dangerous? Kurt, how many times has he thrown you into lockers?"

"Blaine, it's gotten complicated."

Blaine was quiet for a moment. Then, "Complicated, _how_?"

Kurt could hear footsteps and he thought it might be Dave. "I'll call you tonight and tell you everything. But right now, I have to go."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Blaine sighed. "Alright, Kurt. But I'm only thinking about you."

Kurt smiled softly. "I know." He hung up and stared at the phone. How was Blaine even real?

"Kurt?" It _was_ Dave. He was standing in the doorway looking small and unsure.

Kurt motioned for him to enter. Dave walked over and sat next to him. The two didn't speak for a long time.

Finally, Dave said, "Sorry. If anything I said yesterday messed you up. I mean, it messed _me_ up, so it must've messed you up, too."

"I'm already messed up, Dave. You just add to it." Kurt turned to him. Dave was giving him strangely serious eyes, and Kurt noticed that they weren't brown, as he'd always thought, but hazel, shot through with bright green and warm gold. They stared at each toerh for several seconds, and Kurt watched as Dave's expression darkened. He could see the jock's expression slowly changing, into something heated and intense. It woke something in Kurt, a liquid warmth spreading through him. He shifted and _oh god._ He knew what was happening. Dave was turning him on.

Panic shot through Kurt and he jumped up and moved toward the piano. He laid his palms on its cool, comforting surface and leaned forward, dropping his head and trying to breathe normally. This wasn't what he wanted, dammit. He didn't want Karofsky.

"Kurt?" Kurt felt Dave moving closer to him. "Are you okay?"

Kurt shook his head, not trusting his own voice. Dave was right behind him now, and Kurt could feel the heat coming off him. It was… heady, and unsettling. There was a dull ache beginning between Kurt's eyes, and he dropped to his elbows on the piano, causing his ass to press against the solid shape of Dave behind him

Kurt froze and Dave gasped, his hands going to Kurt's hips. Kurt's heart fluttered in his chest and his skin felt flushed. He wondered what kind of picture they made, the jock bending the flamer over the piano in the choir room. Dear Godga, that image didn't help, and Kurt felt himself becoming aroused.

Dave shifted slightly behind him, and his fingers found a surer grip on Kurt's hips. Then, very deliberately, he pulled Kurt backwards until he could feel Dave's cock, a hard ridge in denim, pressing against his ass. Dave hissed a little at the contact, and Kurt gave a soft inhale.

Kurt was shaking now, with arousal, fear, confusion. One of Dave's huge hands slid up Kurt's back, and the sensation made Kurt whimper. People just didn't _touch_ Kurt; even Finn did his best to avoid contact. Dave's hand found Kurt's shoulder and pulled him up until his back was flush agsint the jock's chest. Dave was breathing heavily in Kurt's ear, and the sound made Kurt's cock pulse. He mourned the nice new jeans he was wearing, then remembered he wasn't wearing anything underneath them. _Crap._

Dave rolled his hips again and it sent a jolt of pleasure down Kurt's spine. Kurt's hands scrambled for purchase, finally clinging to the arm Dave had slung across his chest. Dave's other hand moved, finding Kurt's zipper.

Kurt whined as Dave's thick fingers brushed his cock through the jeans. The denim was raw against his arousal. Dave popped the button and slid the zipper down. His fingers went to the waist band then froze.

"You're not…" he husked into Kurt's ear. "There's no…"

"I can't wear anything under jeans this tight," Kurt replied, his own voice hushed and breathless.

"Oh, _God._" Dave gave a moan then pushed Kurt back down to the piano. His hand thrust down the front of Kurt's pants and Kurt cried out at the sudden stimulation. Dave's finger's wrapped around Kurt's cock as he began thrusting against Kurt's denim-clad ass.

"Oh… oh." Kurt pumped into Dave's hand, his fingernails digging into the black enamel of the piano. Dave was breathing in his ear, rutting against him. It was dirty and wrong, and so _amazing_, and Kurt felt like he was going to fly apart at the seams.

Dave's voice was rough as he said into Kurt's ear, "God, the things I want to do to you. So fucking hot, Kurt."

To his utter shame, the words sent Kurt over the edge. He pulsed into Dave's hand, his orgasm sweeping through him, hot and bright. His come painted the black, shining surface in front of him as he dimly felt Dave go stiff behind him.

"Oh _god_, ohhhhh." Dave shuddered and groaned behind him, and it took Kurt a minute to realize that Dave coming as well.

When Dave finally went still, Kurt had a panicked moment thinking his legs were going to give out. But then Dave's arms wrapped around him, big and warm, holding him to Dave's chest. The jock held him close and breathed into Kurt's hair; his lips planting what Kurt thought might be a kiss to the silken strands.

Kurt was sticky and worn, and the hands that had pushed him into lockers were now holding him like he was a life-preserver, and the jock was drowning.

Kurt didn't know who was, not really. And he wasn't really sure what he wanted. But a kind of clarity was falling over him in the silent choir room. He stood there, wrapped in someone's arms, and thought that it didn't fucking matter if he knew what he wanted. He was a teenager. He wasn't supposed to know, and trying to find everything too soon was going to kill him. He didn't need to know how everyone else viewed him; and he didn't need to know how they felt about him. Because it didn't matter.

And yeah, his life had probably just become a thousand times more complicated, but in that moment he just couldn't care. There were warm, strong arms around him, and he was riding an afterglow like nothing he'd ever had before, and dammit, it felt _good._ He was tired of worrying about the future. Fuck the future; it would always be there. This was what he had _now_, and it was better than a few others had it.

Kurt turned in Dave's arms, leaning his head on Dave's shoulder and wrapping his arms around the other boy. He felt Dave tense for a moment, then melt into the embrace, humming a little in contentment.

Kurt closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of sweat and come and aftershave. He didn't know if he and David Karofsky had any kind of future together; but right now, he wanted him. He wanted everything Dave could give him. He didn't care if it was going to hurt. Kurt wasn't afraid of pain. And he wasn't afraid to let himself have what he wanted.

Kurt took another deep breath, and smiled.


End file.
